The Descent of Time
by utinuviel
Summary: Dean dreams of hell and Sammy comforts him. Life goes on. Not everything has to end sad and/or bloody. Will this one? Will be Wincest. Story doesn't really follow canon episodes. Happy readings.
1. Chapter 1

Rating: T

Genre: Romance

Characters: Sam, Dean

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, that's all Kripke. And whoever else owns the show and the boys. Me? I just like playing in their world a little. =P

SPOILERS: Season 3 ending; Season 4. Dean's time in hell?

WARNINGS: n/a

A/N: Just the beginning. There will be Wincest in later chapters. Don't really have a plan. I'm just winging it. -_-;; Kinda the only way I know how to write.

Summary: Dean dreams of hell and Sammy comforts him. Life goes on.

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**Chapter One**

You want to scream. You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. In your head you manage to whimper out a mantra of _SammySammySammy_. But nothing blocks the pain. You hear a voice – Alistair – whisper in your ear.

"Sammy can't hear you Dean"

The voice changes.

"Dean!"

You suddenly feel violently ill. Shaking, shaking.

"Dean! Wake up man. It's just a nightmare."

Sammy…

…

You open your eyes and there he is, scared and worried. Eyes too bright, too wide. You slap his hands away from your body when all you want to do is gather him up in your arms and never let go. Except you don't feel well, so you push him away and roll out of bed, making a beeline for the bathroom. You know Sam can hear your heaving, but he gives you space. You think that it might not be such a good thing after all. But then, there he is, rubbing your back and handing you a wet washcloth and a glass of water. You just know he's dying to ask you about your nightmare. However he doesn't and you find yourself wishing he would. You swipe the cool cloth over your face, revelling in the relief that it brings to your burning brow. You take a sip of water and it rinses the acid taste away.

"Dean." Sam says every so softly as the two of you slouch against the wall. Shoulders slightly touching. "Dean…I know you might not want to talk about it but –"

"No. It's alright." You hear yourself saying. "It was about hell."

Sam kept quiet and stared straight off into space. You put more pressure against his shoulder and he looks at you surprised.

"Dean?" he questions.

You feel like a child. A lost, lonely child. So you decide to act like one. You tilt your head and rest it gently on his shoulder. He makes a small, unidentifiable sound and slides down the wall so that you're more comfortable. Thinking only of your needs.

"I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. In my head I kept calling out for you. Alistair was there. You weren't. Sammy –" You turn your head, your entire body, and press up against him. Your head finds the crook of his neck and you breathe in your brother's scent. "I thought I'd never see you again Sammy."

Your words are muffled by his skin. Soft, clean, nice. Sam's arms are wrapped strongly around you. Holding you tight. Keeping you safe. They tell of hidden strengths. Stronger than you. His arms are a promise. Never to be apart. He will protect you; love you. Oh how ironic the role reversal.

"I'm sorry." Sam states sadly. You let the apology slide because he's warm and you're tired. Your eyes open as he moves, seeming to drag you up. "Come on, we're not going to sleep on the floor."

You let him help you back into bed and you let him crawl in beside you. You curl up next to him, your leg resting between his and your arm thrown across his stomach. He touches your face with reverence, feather-light strokes through your hair. You hear yourself sigh; feel the small shake from his laughter. You ignore his amusement and nuzzle his neck. He gasps; falls still. You think that you're giving him way too much blackmail material. Setting yourself up to be mocked into the next lifetime. The you feel his body relax, his lips imprint on your forehead; hear him whisper, "sleep".

"Stay with me." You mumble back.

He does, so you sleep.

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Comments and constructive criticisms welcome. ^_^

- Uinen


	2. Chapter 2

Rating: T

Genre: Romance

Characters: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, that's all Kripke. And whoever else owns the show and the boys. Me? I just like playing in their world a little. =P

SPOILERS: n/a

WARNINGS: There is Wincest in this chapter – kissing.

A/N: Fluffy chapter. Hopefully I'll write more this month.

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**Chapter Two**

Peaceful, floating, warm. Soft puffs of breath in your ear. Steady rise and fall of Sam's chest. You know it's Sam, not because it couldn't be anyone else, but because you know your brother. You know his scent: cinnamon and something altogether _Sam_. You know the way he feels: soft yet all edges and hard lines. You know the way he sounds: laughter like the ringing of bells. Okay, that sounded way too girly. And why the hell would you even think that in the first place about your brother? You even know he looks good, if all the women fawning over him are any indication. The ones that just pass over you. But you also know because he just _does_. Puppy-dog eyes and all. So you know he feels good, smells good, looks good, sounds good. A sudden urge takes you. You want to taste him.

You slowly lift your head from where it rests on his chest; disentangle yourself from his grip slowly. You're a pro at that. Sam groans and shifts; gives you a better angle. You think he _must_ be reading your mind – giving you an opportunity like this. You stare at his lips; moist, parted – inviting. You've apparently waited too long, since he opens his eyes and smiles one of those sleepy smiles at you through half-closed eyes. You're faintly aware that your hand is splayed out on his stomach, touching skin where his shirt had ridden up during the night. You stare at him staring at you. No. He isn't staring – he's gazing. Lovingly. In the light of day.

He hasn't mocked you yet, so you get bold. You creep up and bury your face in his hair. He laughs and brings his hand up to hold your head there. After your entire life feeling out of place and alone, you finally feel like you're home. You smile into his hair and give his head a soft kiss. You feel Sam's Adam's apple bob up and down. Somehow your hand has come up to hold his neck. You glance down at him. He's looking up at you. It would all be too easy for you to do. To kiss his lips, extract a moan. Desire. You're not sure and it must show on your face because his smile falters.

You trace the contours of his face with the tips of your fingers, his hand resting gently on your forearm. It runs up into your hair and you grin. He tugs you down and for a minute you think he might kiss you. Your eyes only go wide for a split second but he sees and his grip loosens. However, you keep leaning forward to rest your forehead against his. You're so close that you breathe in the same air. Share the same breath, so intimate, yet strangely comforting. One little tilt of your head and your lips could touch.

You swallow hard and search his too-bright green eyes. He sighs contentedly, runs his free hand down your spine, resting it on your lower back, and closes his eyes. You ghost your lips over the tip of his nose. He smiles, almost giggles. You find this encouraging and a little disturbing at the same time. You kiss his temple a little harder, but still too soft. He sighs again so you lick his cheek. It's stubbly. This does invoke a laugh as he turns his face to yours, opening his eyes. 'He'll let me do it.' You think to yourself. He draws you out from your introspection and back to the situation with a tiny whimper. And you think that's all that you can stand.

You crush your mouth against his. He hand he has in your hair clutches your head like you're going to realise what you just did and freak out; try to run away. He's holding you there. Kissing you. And you're kissing back. And he tastes like heaven. Your mind reels and looses coherent thought. He makes a half-strangled whimper-moan (or was that you?) and opens his mouth to yours, letting your tongue invade him. Hot and sticky from sleep. Sweet.

White lights are dancing behind your eyes. You're squeezing them too tight and you're going to have to come for air soon. You think that if you die right now, the only thing you'll remember is _Sammy_ and you'll die happy. But Sam breaks away. Apparently he's the only one in the family that got any self-preservation genes. You pant roughly against his ear, he against yours. And then it hits you – you've been played. Sam knew what effect he had on you and damn.

"Well played little brother. Well played." You laugh.

Sam grins sheepishly and ducks his head into your shoulder. "Wanted to taste you." He mumbled.

You roll over and the air is cold. But you have to get up sometime and while you wish you could stay in bed with Sammy all day, you have people to protect, things to hunt and seals to save. You glance at Sam as you rise. His face is flushed and he's trying out his best puppy-dog look on you. You just wish he didn't look so damn cute right now, so you grin. "Bitch."

He blinks at you in rapid succession. The he gets it and grins back. "Jerk."

Nothing fundamental has changed.

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Comments and constructive criticisms welcome. ^_^

- Uinen


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